


do you still believe in one another

by princessmelia



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brain Damage, Brothers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post 2x01, Prison, Recovery, Self-Harm Past, Suicide Attempts Past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 21:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2363051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessmelia/pseuds/princessmelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a rough few months for both Fitz and Ward. Unable to express themselves freely and struggling with circumstances, they've both become sullen and lonely. But what happens when Fitz wanders down stairs to confront the man who made him like this?  Post 2x01.  Spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	do you still believe in one another

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valiantarcher](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=valiantarcher).



> This is for valiantarcher who made a post about this on tumblr. Enjoy!

The single pair of footsteps echoed in the metal, bunker hallway. The walls were dark and Fitz felt a chill sweep over him. 

“They told you not to come down here for a reason,” Simmons admonished where she walked beside him, seemingly unaffected by the cold air. “They only want what’s best for you.”

“Yeah, well they don’t get to decide everything for me. And I need…” He snapped his fingers in irritation. “I need uh…”

“Confirmation.”

“Right, thank you.” The tablet was heavy in his hands, but familiar. It was simple technology, stuff he knew he knew. Still, he turned to Simmons to double check everything. She knew things when he didn’t. “And this button?”

“Opaque,” she answered. 

“And then this makes it sound… sound, uh…”

“Soundproof.”

“I was going to get there,” he lashed back. Turning the corner, he nearly lost Simmons beside him, but was happy to find her still hovering over his shoulder. “Sorry,” he apologized unnecessarily to her. Simmons didn’t seem to get too mad at him these days. 

Vault D soon loomed before him, the old SSR symbol that was plastered all over the place chipping where it had been painted on years before. He looked down at the tablet again before pressing in the code to gain access. The screen flashed “ACCESS DENIED” in front of his face.

“But that’s the bloody code…” he muttered.

Simmons moved to get a better look at the tablet. “Did you remember the asterisk at the end? You usually forget the end to things, remember?”

“Got it, Simmons.” The sigh that escaped his lips was frustrated as he retyped the password and the door clicked. It was as heavy as it looked, and Fitz used almost all of his strength to swing the door inward. It swung shut behind him, heavy with its own weight. To his right was a single flight of stairs that led into the cellar, right up along the wall. Fitz stood on the edge of the landing, right behind the railing. It was as old in the cell as it was in the rest of the facility, with the exception, of course, of the invisible barrier between Ward and Fitz.

“Fitz?” The older man looked up from his spot on his bed, incomprehension clear on his face. His face was full of a beard, reminding Fitz that it had been a long time since he’d seen the man face to face. It made him touch his own scruff subconsciously.

“Yeah, it’s me. Always were a bit daft, weren’t you?” Fitz began to walk down the steps, fiddling with the tablet in his hand and muttering to himself. Actually being down there was a lot more terrifying than he had previously thought.

“Fitz?” Ward waited for him to answer, but none was forthcoming. Fitz didn’t pay any more attention to him, and continued down the steps until he was on the floor of the prison. He saw Fitz shiver a bit in the cold despite his cardigan. “You okay?”

The engineer came to a stop in front of the yellow line. His eyes were still on the tablet, but they were glazed over, wondering about something else. Something in Ward’s voice. 

“Why do you sound so… so uh, um…”

“Concerned,” Simmons finished.

“Concerned,” Fitz echoed immediately. “Did they… Did they tell you? About the…”

Ward finished the sentence for him this time. “The damage? No, not really.”

His eyes finally looked up to meet Ward’s. “Right, why should they?” His voice was biting. “It’s not like you should know that your actions had uh, um…” His voice faltered. “That they had uh… what’s the word?” He was becoming more distressed, leg bouncing and eyebrows pulling up to meet in the middle of his forehead.

“Consequences,” Simmons and Ward offered in unison. 

Fitz turned slightly and nodded his head to Simmons. “Yeah, right. Thanks.”

“Fitz,” Ward tried to capture his attention again, “why did you come down here?”

“I needed… needed…” His head tilted and his empty hand began to snap. “I needed, um…”

“Closure?” Ward guessed. 

“Yes, dammit, I was getting there!” The tone of his voice was harsh, and was accompanied by the clattering of the tablet falling onto the ground. “I can finish it on my… on my own!” He turned and began to pace angrily. “Why does everyone always treat me like that? I’m still smart. I can think, I can work…”

“No one thinks you can’t, Fitz,” Simmons told him gently. When he turned back to continue pacing, she was there, hand outstretched for his shoulder. He dodged out of the way.

“Well they sure as hell act like it!” he snapped at her.

“Act like what?” Ward asked, but Fitz was focused on Simmons. She had moved to fill up his line of sight again. He tried to look away, but he couldn’t seem to avoid her. She was moving so fast...

He finally came to a stop in front of her, giving in. Simmons smiled serenely at him. “Like I said, they just need to be patient.”

“They aren’t though!” he argued back. “Everything I do… And no one even, uh… No one, uh… Everything I do and no one even...”

“Notices,” she finished.

“Dammit, I can say it myself!” he roared, turning away from her, Ward basically forgotten.

“Fitz!” Ward was trying desperately to get his attention, but his prison kept him away. He cursed the damn thing in his mind, hating it in that moment more than he ever had before.

It was while Fitz was charging away from Simmons that he saw it. The chair was right there, perfectly sitting in the middle of the floor.

“Fitz.” Simmons’ voice had a warning edge to it, but it was swiftly ignored. The chair was all too soon smashing against the wall, echoing in the prison with a loud clang. 

“It’s not fair!” he screamed, kicking over the stand with enough force to bruise his leg.

“Shit,” Ward cursed. “We need some help down here! Koenig! Coulson!” He surged forward and the barrier glowed brightly before sending him reeling backwards.

Running for the chair once more (and limping a bit from the kick), Fitz lifted it above his head. 

“Fitz, listen to me!” Ward shouted.

It didn’t matter. Fitz wasn’t listening, couldn’t care less what Ward had to say. His arms moved behind his head, poised to hurl the chair against the wall again.

A hand grasped his wrist, and Fitz froze in place.

“Fitz, put down the chair.” 

“Why?” he asked, still not looking at her. “Why should I?”

“Because I’ve felt the same,” Ward answered. “Listen to me because I know your rage.”

The chair clattered onto the floor, bouncing between its legs and back until it came to rest at an awkward angle. Fitz soon followed it onto the ground, his legs giving way beneath him. His side and back were still towards Ward.

“Good,” Ward and Simmons said in unison. It made Fitz cringe. 

The familiar weight of her hand settled onto his shoulder, and he moved automatically to cover it with his own. “You need to be patient with yourself, Fitz.”

“I know.” From the way he turned to grasp his shoulder, Fitz could see Ward in his field of vision. “This was you.” It was what he had meant to say when he’d first come down. His chest felt a bit lighter from the admission.

“I know,” Ward replied as he stood and moved forward. He swallowed hard, and edged along the edge of the barrier, moving closer to Fitz. “I wish I could make it better.”

“You can’t. No one can. They tried… tried uh, tried… They tried…”

“Some medication,” Simmons finished.

Fitz nodded and shifted in his spot, moving to face Simmons and, consequently,  
Ward. “Yes, thank you.”

Ward’s eyes slid around the room, but there was no one but the two of them. He thought maybe he was on comms, but if he was, they were doing a crap job, letting him get so emotional like that. Ward sat to match Fitz’s pose, and they were close, only about five feet apart.

“Fitz, did someone send you down here?”

“What?” His head snapped up and confusion was plain on his face. “No, no one sent me. They’re all gone on… on…on ops.” The hand that he had placed on his shoulder slid down to rest awkwardly in his lap. That was the best way to describe how Fitz looked. His arms were bent in towards his body, keeping them close, and his legs were tucked underneath him.

If Ward thought about it, it looked like Fitz was trying to comfort himself. He was used to reading people, it was his job as a specialist to read vulnerabilities. And he’d become especially good at reading his team. Something else was bothering Fitz.

“Has anyone been giving you…” Ward fumbled with the correct word, “contact, lately? Like, physical contact.”

A puzzled look crossed Fitz’s face, and it made Ward’s stomach drop. “No, not really. Just Simmons.” His hand moved back to his shoulder, sending a smile behind it. “Thank you.”

Breath escaped his lips with a pained sigh as Ward’s eyes closed. A lot of things began to make sense if he knew Fitz was imagining Simmons. Why, he had no idea. He probably had no place to know why. Still, he wanted to know if she was alive-- he’d never been told otherwise. But he couldn’t ask Fitz, that would be too cruel. Maybe Skye would be willing to, the next time they sent her down for intel...

“Do you remember the thing we used to do? Ward?” Pulling out of his thoughts, he opened his eyes to find Fitz sending a small smile at him, hand off of his shoulder once again. “Do you?”

“The pat on the back?” The grin that came at the memories couldn’t be helped. “I remember.”

“You were always so, always so… uh, surprised.”

Ward had to shrug at that. “Didn’t expect such force from a Sci-Ops guy.”

Fitz snorted and pulled a smug smirk. “You always were a bit of a… always were… uh…”

“Twat,” Simmons informed him.

“Dumbass jerk face?” Ward offered.

“Yeah, that. A dumbass… dumbass…”

“Jerk face,” Ward finished with a nod. “That was me.” 

It was oddly comforting for both of them, to speak so freely and almost normally with someone. Anyone. Fitz thought about asking Ward about Hydra, why and how. He thought about Ward’s life and what had happened, and he wanted to ask. He had opened his mouth to do so, when Simmons cut in.

“Look at his hands. He’s been hurting himself.”

Fitz peered closer and voiced her words. “Have you been hurting yourself?”

The hands that were under scrutiny were moved back into Ward’s lap. “I went through a rough patch. First a button, then some paper.”

Looking closer, Fitz noticed something else was off in Ward’s face. The discoloration in his hands had been clearly noticeable, but the scar was more hidden. It ran along his temple.

“And the walls,” Simmons informed him.

Fitz nodded. “And the walls,” he echoed.

A huff of air blew out of Ward’s nose, a startled sound of agreement. “Yeah. That, too.”

“Do you ever wish it had… it had, uh… it had…”

“Worked?” Ward asked. Fitz nodded and stared down at his own hands. “Sometimes,”  
Ward admitted. “But usually not. I have things to make up for.”

The engineer still hadn’t looked up, and he was rubbing his hands together idly. “Like Skye.”

“Like Skye,” Ward agreed. “And like you.”

Fitz’s tongue swiped over his lips, and his hands continued to move restlessly in his lap. “Why did you do it?”

It was a question Ward had always expected, had an answer ready for, but it still smashed into him like a thousand punches to the gut. If he could take it back, he would. Of course he would. But that didn’t change anything, never would. He forced himself to look at Fitz in front of him. Awkwardly sitting by himself in the middle of an empty room, no one around. Ward found the longer he stared the more livid he became. Because he had caused this.

“Misplaced loyalty. It shouldn’t have happened, Fitz. You deserve so much more.” He forced himself to keep looking, even when Fitz’s gaze shifted to look right at him. It was much more difficult to apologize than he had imagined. So he did what he had done with Skye, removed all the emotion he could from his voice. Coulson hadn’t been interested in pity, so he tried to take it out of the equation. Ward wanted to be better. “And if there was any way I could change what happened, I would.

“You’re the hero, Fitz. Always were. Willing to jump out of a plane when you had absolutely no experience in doing so. Standing up to…” he paused to swallow before pushing on, “to Garrett twice. Believing in me when no one else did, however misplaced it was. Because you were right, Fitz. I did”--he shook his head--”I do care about you.”

“You can leave,” Simmons reminded Fitz gently. “You don’t have to stay and listen to him. You can get up and go.” Her hand settled back onto his shoulder. His own hand followed soon after.

But he didn’t move from his spot on the ground. Because, after everything, there was still a part of him that cared, too. “I’m getting better, you know. Almost there.”

Ward grinned back at him. “Can’t keep down a hero for long.”

“Yeah, guess not,” Fitz agreed. Simmons grasped his shoulder harder in agreement, and he idly ran his hand over hers.

“Hey, Fitz, can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s--” The door above banged open then, May and Skye descending the stairs with ICErs out.

“Dammit,” Ward cursed as he stood and lifted his hands, retreating slowly to his bed.

Fitz’s head turned to look at the two women, brows pulled together over his eyes. Simmons moved behind him. 

Soon May had his arm in her grasp, helping him to his feet and leading him towards the stairs. “Come on, Fitz. We need you back in the lab.”

“No, you… you don’t,” he responded, unsuccessfully trying to yank his arm out of her grasp. “Ward and I were… we were… having a… a talk.”

Skye stood by the barrier, gun cocked, eyes locked on Ward. “Yeah, and he obviously upset you.” The stand and chair were still lying on the ground.

Fitz wanted to protest, but Simmons stopped him. “They only want what’s best, Fitz. Just go with May. Everything will be fine.”

“Yeah. Yeah, alright.” He let himself be led up the stairs, getting one more glimpse of Ward before the door marked “Vault 9” banged shut.

“What the hell?” Skye put her gun away, opting to cross her arms instead. “What you did to him wasn’t enough? You had to lure him down here, too?”

“He came down willingly,” Ward replied in a controlled, calm voice. “Wanted to talk to me.”

“Yeah,” Skye sneered. “And that went great.” Her arm uncrossed to sweep over the room as evidence. 

“Actually, that was because of you guys,” Ward replied. “Said no one treats him the same anymore.”

Skye’s lips pursed together and her stance became rigid. “Good-bye, Ward.” She moved to pick up the tablet, turning her back on Ward as she did so. He had to make one last attempt to make it right. Make it right for Fitz.

“When was the last time you hugged him?” 

Skye froze, fingers inches from the tablet. With a measured pace, she stood fully upright and turned her torso to face him. “What?”

“I could read it all over his body language. He kept touching his shoulder, giving himself comfort. When was the last time someone even interacted with him?”

Skye let out a huff and let her gaze roam in frustration while she tried to control herself. Finally, her feral eyes settled on him, and she came closer to the barrier. “You don’t think we’ve tried? For months, we’ve been trying to get him to talk to us, let us see what he’s working on. He’s isolated himself.” The tears were creeping into her voice now, and a few slipped down her cheeks. 

“And every day that I see him struggling to speak, saying things for his ears alone, becoming a recluse, reminds me of what you did to him.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “So don’t tell me how we’re doing the wrong thing while we’re fixing _your ___mistake.” Moving in the space of a breath, Skye reached down and clicked the button on the tablet that thrust Ward behind the opaque wall once again.

Heavily, he sat down on his cot and banged his head against the wall. Would he always be such a screw up? His mind wandered over his interaction with Fitz, and he drew some strength from it. With him, Fitz had smiled and laughed a little. It wasn’t enough, not nearly, but maybe it was a start. 


End file.
